


Making Waves

by techbilt



Series: Waves of Love [2]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-06
Updated: 2019-07-06
Packaged: 2020-06-22 04:58:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19660300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/techbilt/pseuds/techbilt
Summary: Prowl doesn’t answer his coms when Lockdown calls as per their protocol.  Lockdowns sits for almost a month before deciding he doesn’t like the silence.  He misses Prowl.





	Making Waves

Space was lonely. Something that didn’t used to bother Lockdown as much as it did now. He sat in the captains chair at the helm of the ship. His target hog tied and sitting in the corner, gagged and Lockdown contemplated knocking him out. He’d already gotten the mods out of the unlucky bastard and now he was just annoying, begging for his life, and attempting to appeal to Lockdown softer side. A side he was pretty sure that the other mech thought he didn’t have.

Lockdown was about a month away from where Prowl was stationed. Another month of travelling and Lockdown would be home. Something he desperately missed in the year he’d been tracking down this mech. He sat at his comm terminal, setting up for a deep space communication message. He’d always send a ping to Prowl when he was a month out, warn him in a way. Prowl was a busy mech running an army, Lockdown wanted to give his lover all the time he possibly could to clear his schedule and make sure any possible offensive plans he has didn’t take place when they were otherwise occupied on Lockdowns berth.

It was only a short ping, nothing that would give the Autobots anything to worry about. It was only 8 bits long, With his special signature encoded into the end of the ping packet and He’d wait for Prowl to answer. He wasn’t too worried when Prowl didn’t respond back. Not right away. It usually took a few hours before Prowl could tear himself away from his work saving the Autobots one battle at a time and reply to his lover who he only say twice a year if he was lucky.

Lockdown stared at the bounty as he was still making noise, he swiveled in the chair, his chin resting on his left hand. The hook tapping on the arm of the chair, and he smirked. He liked it when the targets were ornery, made them that much more fun to turn into Megatron. This particular mech was wanted by both Autobots and Decepticons but Megatron was willing to dish out more mods and energon than the Autobots were in credits… the choice was obvious to Lockdown, even if Prowl would have a problem with it. Lockdown wasn’t too worried, they lived by a don’t ask don’t tell rule. Prowl wasn’t allowed to ask where a Bounty was headed and Lockdown – well he got the raw end of the deal. He got a Praxian in his bed whenever he could spare the time.  
The tall mech stood from his chair and walked over to the target, pleading for his life through a gag and Lockdown brought his hand back and brought it quickly to the targets face. Knocked the target out cold and Lockdown threw him over his shoulder and carried him to the holding cell. It would be a long month of keeping him alive but Lockdown could finally cut socialization with the mech down to a minimum now that he was in one of the cells.

He made sure the mech was locked up before he disabled the stasis cuffs. He left the room and sat back down at the comm station. He knew better than to expect an immediate response but there was that small worry in the back of his processor that always screamed Prowl was in danger or dead. And no one knew of their relationship so Lockdown wasn’t going to be privy to knowing if anything happened. He hated it.

*-*-*

  
Lockdown paced. He hadn’t paced in the helm of his ship in well… ever. It had been a week. Were the Autobots even still in the area. He had sent a message to the Decepticons and it had come through just fine. So why wasn’t Prowl getting his personal messages? Had he done something wrong? Had Lockdown finally over stayed his welcome with the Praxian? He sat down rather violently into the pilots chair and pushed the ship to her limits. He would send another ping and hope that Prowl answered then.  
He tapped his fingers against the arm of the chair, waiting for a response, By the ninth day with nothing from Prowl he had stopped sleeping. Something was wrong. He glanced back to the door, and huffed. What was he going to do? Anxiety settled deep into his struts and he debated on calling Jazz or the Prime about Prowl and why he wasn’t picking up. Prowl would kill him if he did such a thing though. If he was still alive Lockdown needed Prowl to want to stick by his side.

The fifteenth day Lockdown was nothing but irritated. What was going on over there? Prowl hadn’t called him back yet. The latest Prowl ever let one of his pings go with no acknowledgement was He’s already broken a chair and one of the squeaky doors on the ship. He was about to break the face of the bounty he had stashed in the brig. He sent an SOS ping this time to Prowl. No matter how mad Prowl was at him he wouldn’t ignore that particular type of ping. They would expose themselves if they had to, but neither one of them ignored and SOS ping.

The seventeenth day, nothing. The SOS ping had not been returned. Something was wrong, really really wrong. And it didn’t sit well with him at all. Lockdown sighed, resting his head on the back of one of the chairs he had destroyed in a short fit of rage. One of the moments where he had figured Prowl had just up and left him for fragging Jazz. He’d have to get replacements for all of this furnature he had torn apart. Which was honestly his own bad. He sighed again and thought about what he was going to do. He thought to the bounty sitting in his brig, currently guzzling away at his ration so he didn’t die. Wanted by both Decpeticons and Autobots… He’d already called the Decepticons told them he had the target and was enroute… but he’d pulled from deals before – Autobots wouldn’t offer anything better, but all Autobot bounties went through Prowl, SIC and former enforcer of the Praxus Police Department.

Lockdown glanced to the chronometer, He should really call, their secret love affair be damned for all Lockdown knew they had already been found out. Maybe Prime finally grew some ball bearings and executed Prowl. Anything could happen. He put in a call to Prowls work number, the one usually reserved for Bounty Hunters like Lobo, Devcon, Wheelie, and himself. He rarely used this number – usually only when Prowl asked him to do a job for the Autobots during their rondevouz did Lockdown actually use this comm. Autobots didn’t pay well.

Prowl always answered first ring, two rings had gone by, then a third, fourth, when finally he was greeted to Jazz. Lockdown huffed that wasn’t the visage he wanted to see. It only confirmed his suspicions that Prowl had been court martialed for loving a Neutral. Stupid Autobots. Lockdown had to force down a growl as Jazz spoke.

“Got something for us?” asked Jazz.

“Yeah, Bounty Number 2810-BH46-58. Where’s Prowl? He’s usually the one who takes the bounties.” asked Lockdown. He attempted to play it off as merely professional concern. He hoped desperately it came out as that, and with his reputation he doubted it came off as professional concern. Looking around the area he could see Prowls office, it looked horrible. Data pads were stacked higher than Jazz, and dust covered most of them… what was going on over there?

“Vacation,” answered Jazz quickly. Too quickly. Something was wrong. Lockdown didn’t have a lot of contact with Jazz, so he wasn’t sure if this was normal behavior for him but Jazz seemed stressed and overworked. Something had happened to Prowl.

“Well that’s a bummer, was looking forward to seein’ that sweet aft ‘a his,” quipped Lockdown. “But I guess yours will do.” Yes play it off so Jazz can insult you and the turn off the comm to find out what was really going on with Prowl, and where he was.

“Right… I’m sure he’ll miss planting his fist into your face,” stated Jazz as he closed the comm. Lockdown shut down his terminal as well and leaned back. If only Jazz knew how receptive Prowl really was – so The Autobots didn’t know about their relationship. That took away the worry that Prowl had been court martialed. So if he hadn’t been kicked out of the Autobots that left medical emergency or he was taken as a prisoner. Prowl didn’t do vacation. Lockdown knew that much. The only time Prowl did vacation was to do Lockdown.

Lockdown didn’t sleep that night.

Or the next night.

He slept a little the night after that but he didn’t feel like he had gotten any recharge.

Finally though – a few days earlier than he was scheduled to meet with the cons Lockdown was able to touch down in Autobot territory, the coordinates Prowl usually gave him when he had a target bound for Autobot care. This was the usual protocol for this situation so far. He was still worried about Prowl and he didn’t know how to cope. Prowl was more than capable of taking care of himself but something in the pit of his tanks just didn’t feel right. Nothing felt right since Prowl had never returned his ping. He’d give his last arm just to hear Prowl was okay.

What did break protocol though was Jazz and Prowls SIC of tactical coming alone to the Death’s Head’s gangway. The security system alerted him of their approach. And Lockdown was very very concerned, these two idiots apparently didn’t know him very well and Prowl probably hadn’t left any notes on how to properly not get blown up by the ship. He ordered the ship to stand down, temporarily adding Jazz and Hound to the roster for clearance. Once they left the ships range they would be back to hostile. Lockdown gathered the target, slapped a pair of stasis cuffs on him and swung him over his shoulder leaving for the ramp to greet the two Autobots who were so so new to Prowls job.

“Hey,” shouted Lockdown, “It ain’t a good idea to sneak up on the ship like that warn a fella won’t you?” He set the bounty down harder than he meant to on the gangway.

“Right.” Stated Jazz. He knew Jazz was head of spec ops, his job was to sneak up on people. To him this probably was the equivalent of sending a notice. The two were clearly uncomfortable. And Lockdown was wondering what exactly this was.

“Why are you bringing the bounty to us?” asked Hound seeing a potential flaw in Lockdowns logic, it wasn’t his MO, no normally anyway, he went with the highest bidder, it certainly wasn’t the Autobots. They were only willing to pay two thirds of what the Decepticons were willing to pay, and that didn’t include the mods Megatron would have given him as a tip.

Lockdown saw through the question and he had an answer, right? A Real one that didn’t include the truth that could possibly get Prowl kicked out of the Autobots. A real answer… like…. “Megatron fragged me on the last pay. Wanted to show him what it means when you only pay half of what you promised.” Flimsy but okay work Lockdown saved Prowls military career. Jazz and Hound only looked at one another then back to Lockdown.

“You double as a paid mercenary right?” asked Hound. The Bounty Hunter nodded, but his services wouldn’t be covered by what they wanted this Bounty for. And he wasn’t running any two for one deals either. “We don’t want this target, but you can keep the payment, and get the Decepticons payment if you help us.”

“This about Officer Friendly?” asked Lockdown as distant as he possibly could. The two were surprised to see he had drawn that conclusion. He’d take the payment for merely cosmetic reasons, after all this was over he wanted Prowls friends to trust him still. He couldn’t take that away from Prowl not after whatever part of the pit he’s been through. He’d do this for free to save Prowl. Not that anyone really needed to know that detail.

Their silence told Lockdown everything he needed to know. Fraggers had taken his Prowl and they were doing only Primus knew what to him and Lockdowns spark shuttered in his casing and he could feel his arm tremble. He closed his fist and grit his denta. He stopped an audible growl but there was a fiery hatred that lit up under his optics. He roughly picked up the target and walked back into the Death’s Head. “Well you two idiots comin’?” asked Lockdown. The anger in his vocoder he didn’t even try to hide.  
Jazz and Hound were quick to follow after Lockdown into the ship not wanting to look a gift horse in the mouth. They even followed him into the holding room and then to what looked like a conference room. It looked unused for the most part. And it was mostly unused, Lockdown rarely came in here to talk about mercenary jobs. He was mostly sent to fetch. “So what’s the plan?”

“Well we’re pretty sure Prowls being held on the nemesis,” admitted Hound. “What we need you to do is make the bounty transaction last just long enough for Jazz and Mirage to find his location and possibly liberate him.”

“I can make that happen,” said Lockdown. He already had the gears turning in his processor, something he was universally known for was taking the mods off his targets, he’d already stripped him of the mods, but it wouldn’t hurt to have them put back in – claim he needs a medical room to take them out before they can have the target. But he was curious about something, he doubted Prowl would ever approve of Jazz using Lockdown as an asset. Not in an operation like this, where another mech – and unwilling mech was being sacrificed for Prowls. Prowl would be pissed to but he’d be alive.

The bounty Hunter went to work reattaching the mechs mods, he had never kept a list of mods he’s torn off of a bounty before – and he wouldn’t start now, but he would attached whatever mods he could reach and weren’t going to guarantee the mech could get out of his own free will.

*-*-*

Prowl winced. He isn’t sure how long he’s been here. He’d lost count somewhere around the 40th day. He couldn’t read his chronometer anymore, there were errors that continued to pop up – but he couldn’t read them. He was suffering from some kind of processor damage, and he could only hope that when he got out of here Ratchet would be able to fix it. The only reason he even knew they were errors at all was because they were red.

He looked around his cell, he was familiar with it by now. Though with his door wings damaged and only one optic functioning Prowl felt blind. He was disoriented, unable to tell which way was up or down, Prowl only assumed down was down because he felt heavy. He didn’t move much these days. His helm always felt heave, his joints too. His tanks were almost constantly on empty. They fed him at varying intervals, probably whenever it was convenient. There were times he had gone days with fueling in this pit hole. He doesn’t remember the last time he had fuel. He turns on his side and curls up against himself. Everything feels heavy. His tanks hurt, his door wings throb, his helm feels like its swimming, his audials make it feel like he’s under water, and terror grips his spark as his cell door opens. Prowl doesn’t have the energy to fight back, so he just lays there.

He hates every second that this mech is here with him in the cell. The words he can handle, he knows this mech hates him, but it’s the throwing him into a wall, pinning him there as he crushes whatever armor he had his hands on. It tourture, the cuts, the claws ripping through more metal on his door wings. More errors pop up and this time he looses color feed in his optics. He crashes to the floor after the mech tries to pry open his chest plates. He’s called away by someone in the hall way. He doesn’t hear its all muffled. Everything’s broken, his frame, his hardware, his spark. His engine sputtered and his optics are empty when someone else finds him.

This has to be what it feels like to die.

Days passed and Prowl had decided that Primus was punishing him, for what? He isn’t quite sure, he’s certain that he has done a lot to be punished by their god for, betraying the Autobots but falling in love with a neutral bounty hunter wasn’t even the top of the list. Prowl had hurt people, had compromised his own morals and Optimus’ to attempt to win them this war.

He didn’t even know if Optimus was even working with the Decepticons for his release. He wasn’t sure he wanted to go back to the Autobots after this. It would be a while before Lockdown even returned if he did at all. And if he did return would Lockdown even know something was wrong? No one would tell him about Prowls ill fate once the Decepticons decided he wasn’t worth keeping around. And Lockdown wouldn’t ask, probably.

The brig doors opened and Prowl couldn’t see anything from his cell, he still felt blind. He hadn’t had energon in he didn’t know how long. He didn’t even have the energy to look at show had entered. Two pairs of ped steps came into the room. He heard his cell door open and the two walked toward him. He wasn’t sure what was going to happen only that it was going to hurt; he didn’t have any kind of energy to spare for protecting himself. He’d just lay there and take whatever torture these cons had planned for him.

The mechs stopped, and Prowl grew anxious. “Primus, Prowler what’d they do to you?” It was a voice he recognized. Jazz. This had to be some kind of trick, either a trick his mind was playing on himself or the Decepticons had modulated their voices to speak like Jazz. It hurt his spark, he couldn’t see couldn’t fight, everything had been ripped away from him. His entire frame ached so deep that he wasn’t sure he would ever not ache again.

The mech using Jazz voice circled around him, and knelled down, gauging what damages had been done and what other damages he could inflict upon the helpless Autobot. Then the mech attempted to grab him. Prowl struggled, “No, let me go.” Jazz had only gotten Prowl to his knees when he lost his grip on his friend and he fell to the ground with a heavy clunk.

The noise had been enough to get the attention of the guards they had slipped passed. Jazz swore and headed to a hiding spot. Couldn’t rescue Prowl if Jazz himself had been captured. And this was the only time he’d be able to get Prowl, not unless Lockdown had easy access to anther bounty the Cons were just dying to get for double the money, and Starscream seemed to be in Megatron’s good graces today.

Jazz sighed the guards were watching now, they hadn’t witnessed anyone come into the brig so naturally if Prowl had fallen after not moving for several days – frag. Jazz wasn’t going to be able to get him out of this. He sent an encrypted ping to Mirage – [: Abort mission. :] there wasn’t any way to do this with out more back up. With Prowl so out of it not knowing who friend or foe was, Jazz could be fighting with him while attempting to get him out of the compound.

*-*-*

“Sorry about this guys, it’s just you know, my welders broke on the ship, and I can’t just hand him over,” stated Lockdown as he waved the borrowed Decepticon welder in his hands. He made sure to do this real nice and slow allowing Jazz time to get Prowl out of the brig. Or atleast Lockdown had hoped.

“Yeah, yeah,” stated the Decepticon guard. “Just make it quick will you?”

“You guys seem chipper,” stated Lockdown. There was a lot less threats of bodily harm than he was used to. “Whats the occasion? finally get the army one good lay?”

“Better! We got that fragging autobot tactitian. That one that’s been running us into the ground?”

“You guys got Prowl?” asked Lockdown. It took every ounce of self-control not to run rampant through the base and tear it apart looking for the praxian, probably beaten and broken. The ping from Jazz came in, something was wrong with the mission. “There  
is no way you got Prowl,” said Lockdown, attempting to get the two to show him where they were keeping his Prowl.

“Oh yeah, we got him. Wanna see?”

“absolutely,” stated Lockdown. He picked up the target, still not ready just yet to give him to Megatron on a silver platter. He had a new idea. One that would hopefully get Prowl out of here and one that would keep Megatron a happy paying customer.  
The guards lead him into the brig, past the guards and into the cells. Where Lockdown was finally able to put his optics on Prowl. For the first time in over a year. And it took everything Lockdown had not to put these guards through a wall. “Get me Megatron. I want to make a new deal,” stated Lockdown short and quick, he didn’t even care of his anger at the situation leaked into his vocoder. Prowl wasn’t staying here not when he was in this bad of shape. It didn’t seem likely that Prowl would be returning to active duty anytime soon.

Prowl had recognized that voice, but the Decepticons didn’t know, could they? Did they find out? Was that why no one had leveraged for his return to the Autobots? Was he going to die here? At the hands of the Decepticons because he dared to-  
“Prowl,” whispered Lockdown. He didn’t know where Prowls processor was going but it couldn’t be anywhere good. “Prowler.” He attempted to get as close as he could crouching down in an attempt to get on Prowls level with out laying on the ground completely. He saw the others wing twitch he knew he was listening, but wasn’t sure if Prowl would believe him. “I’m going to get you out of here. You’re not going back to them.” Lockdown meant it this time.

Prowl did something stupid, something he hadn’t done since he got here. He finally let the hallucination convince him that everything would be alright. That things would get better that even this fake Lockdown would comfort him despite the real one being on a mission only Primus knew where. Prowl let his mind comfort him, let the hallucination tell him it would get better, that he would get out of here, never having to return to a position that might bring him to this place once more.

Lockdown heard the door to the brig open and the hard heavy steps of Megatron followed. “So I hear you are demanding to make a new deal.” The silver warlord was impressive in person and Lockdown rarely made deals in person or this close to the bounty exchange. But he couldn’t just leave Prowl here, not without trying to exchange the target for Prowl. Whoever this mech was both sides wanted him, sure the Autobots only wanted him to get into the Decepticon compound but Megatron didn’t know that.  
“I want the Autobot in exchange for the target,” stated Lockdown. He had never backed down to Megatron before and he wasn’t about to now. If Megatron didn’t hand Prowl over Lockdown was about to be out of a major client.

“You want this Autobot in exchange for the target?” asked Megatron. Didn’t seem right for the bounty hunter to abandon the credits promised to him for some Autobot scum. But Megatron had an army to run, and running the Decepticons wasn’t cheap. Optimus Prime didn’t seem willing to pay all that much for the little ingrate, either he wouldn’t or most likely he couldn’t meet Megatrons demands to get him back. The autobots were aching for resrouces, so were the Decepticons, but there were more Con’s than Bots.

“Yep,” stated Lockdown. His tone signaled something serious. He wasn’t about to just walk through the door with an account full of credits and leave Prowl behind. This – he didn’t care if they were found out this was unacceptable for this to have happened at all. Lockdown knew Prowl could take care of himself. To see him in such a state… it was horrible. He almost seemed like a completely different mech, something broken, this couldn’t have been the same Prowl.


End file.
